Children Of The Gun
by HollywoodGirl15
Summary: Post World War II, Aldo intends to keep his promise despite a disturbed German Colonel and fleeting hope. SEQUEL TO 'AS INGLORIOUS AS IT GETS'


**_Author's Note: _**Long time between, huh? I thank you guys so much for sticking by me and supporting the decision to change the original ending to As Inglorious As It Gets. I've gotten a lot prewritten for this sequel so far, as far as actually plotting it out. That's something I never really accomplished with the prequel. Remember guys, _reviews make the chapters easier to write_. I'm going to be more obligated to write when I know that people actually like it as well :)

**Full Summary: **_Nearing towards a year since World War II, Aldo Raine finds himself all but pacing as he tries to decide on whether or not he should get on an airplane and head back over to France. His mind still swarms with Hayden's haunting face, determined more than ever that what Landa had revealed had been true; she hadn't been shot, she was still alive and now a POW. But as it starts inching closer and closer to a year with no word from the government, Aldo's starting to fear the worse; it had all been a clever act like so many times before. _

**Disclaimer: **I own absolutely nothing, and this is all based off of Quentin's lovely Inglourious Basterds world. No feelings, emotions towards a certain race, ect, is of personal views. All is for the sake of a realistic World War II and post World War II story.

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><p>Heavy rain opened up from the sky, leaving a fresh scents lying around in the reminisce of destruction. Rattling tires coasted along a muddy road, caking up before falling back, redundancy at its finest as quiet yelps and moans alerted of the once proud man's appearance. They grew with every smashing rut, tossing him further and further along the truck bed as the rapidly passing consciousness became a blur against the early morning sun. Lost beneath trees and the faint smell of explosive powder, the normally beautiful morning fell to destruction like so many things had within such a short span of time. But it was now hidden in the past, written down and documented like a personal journal that had been purged of its privacy and stripped naked.<p>

And nothing was left to show for it save for the three broken bodies, blood dripping from newfound wounds as another rock smashed into a heavy tire, falling victim underneath the startling weight. Landa's body flew once, twice, then settled back down where it had previously rested, uncomfortable bench digging into sore thighs and an aching back left with little to no support. A thick, red line trickled down past his nose, alerting his keen eyes even in the blackness that surrounded his mind. It settled heavily like a thick cloud, and he forced himself to stay conscious despite the throbbing pain that left him with the feeling of his head vacantly opening up and spilling upon the dirty truck bed.

Hans was vaguely alerted somewhere in his subconscious of what had happened; though a more prominent part of his memory tried to block out the event already. He had left it on the road, his eyes closing as the red trickled over his eyelashes and then to his cheek to join the other red streams. His mind tried to deceive him, tried to tell him that this was all just some messed up dream and that he was going to wake up at any moment now. Hans would wake up back in his comfortable cot, no hideous marking on his forehead that alerted every set of prying eyes to his dirty deeds. They'd just cower in the pure essence of his presence, shrinking back as the proud Colonel strode through towns and cities, boasting his status with the highest level of pride.

But Landa wasn't naive, and as the blood began to trickle more rapidly down his face, he let out a disgruntled scream and lashed out. His feet connected with the bench across from him weakly, barely even rocking the moving vehicle. He would never be able to show his face without a hat, hiding his once proud life from the eyes of prying strangers. What he saw as a prestigious duty was now a sin, and underneath their eyes he wasn't a hero of war. Landa was merely another Nazi that nobody wished to see, and he'd be lucky if they didn't riot at the mere sight of him. He was forever marked, forever damned as far as anybody else was concerned.

Arching momentarily to get some form of relief, the Colonel tugged upon his restraints, desperate to get some form of comfort, but was denied with a low hiss that sent his wrists bleeding from the tightness. There had been no real reason for the restraints; Aldo was just a slave to appearances. The faintest thought of his taunting smirk filtered through his mind, Landa's teeth gritting in pure concentration as he tried once more to loosen the metal. It gave no more than it had on the first try, and the Colonel slumped back against the uncomfortable seating arrangement. Letting out a disgruntled cry as the pain set in harder than ever, his mouth fell silent and his eyes watched the passing scenery with no interest.

Much more tired and aching eyes watched the path in front of the truck, body aching to stop and rest but careless mind telling him to keep driving forward. They were closer now, closer to Great Britain then they had been in months; there was no use pulling over and falling asleep. The Brass would be getting irritated with the long amount of time it was taking to get Landa back to them; the once fearless leader wasn't in the mood to get bitched out even more than he was already guaranteed to be.

Aldo saw no reason to celebrate nor to put himself back in the line of fire; he had been entrusted with a troop that had shown no mercy, had put themselves on the line for him like he had done back. But the fact still remained that out of his little group of dedicated Jewish soldiers and a former Nazi, only Utivich and he still remained. There was no hope that Omar or Donowitz had survived the explosion. The cinema had been blown to pieces, leaving nearly no traces of it behind; if they had survived an attack like that with bombs strapped to their ankles, then they must have been walking miracles.

Suddenly the champagne that he had sipped only hours prior, that had tasted so sweet, turned sour and left a hideous taste in his mouth.

His partner in crime sat snoring peacefully in the seat next to him, body aching and throbbing in places that he hadn't been sure existed before then. But now his mind was completely at rest, content and in peaceful fragments. Smiling faintly at the sight, Raine slowly turned his eyes back to the road, entrancing himself in the task that was his duty to carry out. Ignoring the throbs like he had done for months, he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal a little harder, letting out a chuckle of satisfaction as Landa's body jerked in the back seat once more and his started scream flooded through the small barrier separating them.

Raine's palms pressed harder into the warm material of the steering wheel, his mind desperately trying to focus on the task ahead of him. Exhaustion was beginning to set into every aching limb in his body, his mental capacity already overwhelmed with the rapid succession of events and bringing him to the brink of hallucinating. Everywhere his eyes scanned turned into lush trees; small little towns could be seen between their fleeting branches, giving way to the summer breeze as his house came into view. It remained just how he had left it; nearly broken down but still in livable condition. Back then he didn't have the money to fix it all at once and with his mind going into the war it would've been useless. As far as how the words had been spoken, he was supposed to be on a suicide mission. But there it was, clear as ever, and it was almost strong enough to make Aldo jerk the wheel to the left.

Aldo had to blink several times before he realized that his mind had hallucinated once more, and that it was merely the camp coming into view.

A thousand emotions rushed over the leader in the few brief feet it took to fully enter. A sudden surge of relief flooded his exhausted veins, almost forcing him to punch the roof of the vehicle in his sheer bliss. Weight seemed to lift itself off of his shoulders, forcing a smile ten miles wide onto his face before he could contain it. They were at the home stretch now, and in only a few short weeks that hallucination would be real. Soon he really would be back in Tennessee, amongst the people that had once seemed so troublesome so long ago. Now they seemed like blessings in disguise, and an overwhelming rush of adrenaline swam through his veins as he parked the rickety truck and climbed out after giving Utivich an excited shrug.

The young private jeered himself out of his sleep, head hitting the window in his half slumbered state. Letting out a low moan of disapproval as he opened his own door, Smithson didn't bother to comprehend where he was. All he was concerned about was the fact that he more than likely had a concussion, and the small amount of sleep he had gotten seemed like a seductive tease. Eye lids drooping as he walked forward, his clumsy feet made their way towards the back where Landa was still firmly sitting, mouth clamped shut as Aldo grabbed the young man's shoulder. Utivich looked up, questioning the leader for a brief moment. "I'll get 'im. Yous go tell the Brass that we's arrived."

Giving him another warning glance, Utivich obeyed his orders and moved towards the main camp set up, giving a fleeting glance to Aldo's glinting eyes. An unsettling feeling set itself into his stomach, a warning light going off in the back of his head bright red. Despite the instinct that told him to turn around and make sure Aldo didn't blow the rest of the mission, Utivich kept his eyes forward.

He had received an order, and Aldo was old enough to make his own decisions. If he screwed everything up, Utivich could say he had taken his best interest and stayed out of personal conflicts.

Aldo waited until the young soldier was out of his sight before allowing himself to step onto the back of the truck. Landa kept his eyes clamped shut, almost in a delirious slumber before the Basterds' leader gave his shin a swift kick. An antagonized howl rose from Landa's lips, his body pushing itself up despite the restraints that rendered any of his blows useless. Aldo simply smirked, eyeing down the once proud German Colonel. He was nothing now, reduced to a former shell before his very own eyes. "We's arrived, yer highness."

Landa's eyes narrowed, his arms moving to strike but restraints holding him back completely. Growling lowly and staring the smirking boy down, his every instinct told him to do anything in his power to hurt him, to make him pay. He was a high ranking German officer, and he'd be damned if some smart mouthed American got the upper hand in a dissipating situation. But there he was, scar and all, staring him down and tempting him to make the first move. If he lashed out, Aldo would have all the leverage he needed to strike out against him, and it was a strategy Landa knew all too well.

He opted to shut his mouth, stare at the American with a passive hatred burning in his eyes.

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><p>Utivich watched around the room as officers moved around quickly, getting all necessary paperwork ready and taking any barked command that hit their ears without a second guess. It sent him back only hours ago when Aldo had instructed him to drive the limo, had taken up driving such a short amount of time. It left a twang of regret sitting in every inch of him as he thought of Donny and Omar, but he quickly pressed the thoughts out of his mind. He'd have a time to reflect on them, and that would be when he was content in Manhattan's grasp. For now he was in Great Britain, and he pressed his mind to stay inside that time frame.<p>

If he let Landa do anything short but sit there looking pretty with his new marking, then he knew he'd be in more trouble at Aldo's hands than by the Brass'.

He let his eyes trail the man for a moment, watching as the marking on his forehead was already beginning to heal. It brought a swell of pride to his chest, knowing that he would be forever marked for the cruelty that he had ensured upon Utivich's generation. There was no turning back once a swastika was cut into your forehead, and a daunting smirk played out against his lips as Hans squirmed momentarily, aching for a comfortable position despite the restraints being removed. The appearances ended once they stepped through the door, and they were left with a triumphant Colonel.

Landa's eyes scanned the rather large base, his eyes shining in minor approval as he turned back to the Private. There had been no reason for the guard watching over him, and he presumed it was more of Aldo's doing than Utivich's actual conscious thought. He had to admit to himself with a bitter taste that Aldo was a fine leader. His troops always obeyed his every command, and Landa could only guess that he had been chosen for that cut throat attitude alone. Glancing over his shoulder and watching as the man rolled his eyes, listening as the Brass' hands went up in the air, animated movements accentuating his emotions. "You know she's not alive, yes?"

Utivich looked over surprised, hoping somewhere deep down that he wouldn't have to have this conversation. He had just blocked out Donny and Omar for the moment being, and another solider was rubbing salt in the wound. But it was quickly replaced with a searing hatred that he hadn't known he possessed. How could someone destroy their daughter so easily? Given she was a traitor and German policies were different, didn't blood count for something even in war time conditions? "I'm sure you're proud of that fact."

"I watched as they brought her to her demise," Utivich almost smacked the smirking Colonel with the butt of his gun as he glared him down. A sickening proud tone of voice rested inside his vocal cords, making the Private's stomach churn. He had the fleeting thought of pressing the trigger down, telling them that the gun had fired itself, but in the end he would be the one damned for it. Instead he gritted his teeth and looked forward, trying to tune his ears into anything but Landa's proud admittance of how the event had gone down.

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><p>Aldo trailed in and out of the conversation, barely hearing the Brass' words as his animated hand movements entertained his drooping eyes. Exhaustion had set in fully, gripping his neck in a stranglehold as fought it off with whatever strength he had left. It was rapidly failing, and he quickly found himself falling victim to the slumber that he had sworn off of. Only a sudden startling bang had woken him up, staring up at the Brass with an unapologetic look.<p>

He had fought damn hard in the past few hours, and he wasn't going to take anyone's shit, not even if they were the Brass.

"Are you even listening Raine? I asked you if there were any POW's remaining that you knew of!" This time it was an order on a topic that had Raine sitting up straight. Her haunting face flashed across his briefly closed eyelids once more, causing a low moan of disapproval to leave his lungs. He had done a good job at blocking her out for a majority of the drive, and now that the memory was back at full force, Aldo was back to questioning what was reality and what was fiction once more.

"There's one. 'Er name is Hayden Landa," the last name seemed to spark interest in the Brass' eyes, and Aldo let out a delusional grin slip onto his lips. His fingertips toyed with a stray pen on the desk, mind amused for the briefest of moments. Everything was beginning to grow blurry in the exhaustion, and it was only the sudden dropping of the ink that brought him back to alertness.

"And that's the only one? What use does she have to us?" Aldo hadn't been planning on fighting for a reason to rescue a POW. His eyes turned up, meeting his superior as he nodded once to himself, then brought his body sitting straight up in the chair. The change in position seemed to provide him with enough fresh oxygen to wake him up a minimal amount.

"She's the Colonel's daughter. She most likely has the plans yous crave." That same knowing grin doused his face again, spreading like a California wild fire. The superior eyed him up once more before nodding slightly, jotting down a note and moving to make the call to alert his soldiers of the development. Aldo's hand shot out, stopping him momentarily as his voice dropped a few octaves, keeping their conversation away from prying ears. "When yous find 'er, I wants a call."

The Brass eyed him skeptically for a moment before nodding briefly, not in any mood to deal with an argument from an already delusional Aldo Raine. With one more wave he dismissed the leader, moving to call his associates once more, careful eyes following the Tennessee native's every move.


End file.
